


Mistress

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: Haunted [6]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dom/sub, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-01
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames had called Ariadne "Mistress" before as a joke. It's not a joke anymore.</p><p>For the prompt: <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/13659.html?thread=31469659#t31469659">Ariadne likes to dominate Eames in and out of bed, and he likes it just as much.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistress

Eames came back from grocery shopping to the sight of Ariadne cleaning out the kitchen with an unholy vengeance and Arthur going through e-mails on his computer. Eames lofted an eyebrow at him, asking what had happened without saying the words. Arthur mouthed "mother" and had a pinched expression on his face, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did, and he just didn't know what the conversation was about yet. He let it go, because Ariadne smiled as soon as she saw him, and the tension seemed to bleed out of her shoulders a bit. "I'll give you a massage," he offered, an easy smile on his face.

"Full body, and nothing less," she said, tension still evident in her voice.

"Yes, Mistress," he said, a teasing lilt to her voice. She laughed, but it seemed to help lift her mood. He didn't mind it; he hadn't been joking when he had told her weeks ago that confident women were a turn on. He absolutely didn't mind being bossed around in the bedroom once in a while. And if it crossed over into the rest of their relationship, oh well. Ariadne wasn't a harsh task master, and she would never harm him, not even unwillingly.

That the darker memories of his past weren't coming to mind told him just how comfortable he was with her. Arthur didn't bring them on either, not quite, but it was different since he was a man. There was an additional sense of security because Ariadne was a petite female. Logically, he knew that it was a sexist thought, but he couldn't help but feel a bit safer physically because she couldn't break him that way. Sometimes he felt self conscious around Arthur, as if there was something wrong with him that he couldn't make Arthur angry with him. It wasn't logical, either, but Eames was used to dealing with instinct more than logic. It had gotten him this far.

Groceries put away, Ariadne sat at the kitchen table and let Eames start massaging her shoulders. "Did something happen while I was out? I didn't think I was gone that long."

It was odd to see Ariadne's shoulders slump slightly, to see her curl in on herself as if she was protecting herself from damage. "Nothing out of the ordinary," she said, not quite answering the question. He allowed it for the moment. If he didn't have to tell her things, it probably meant she didn't have to tell him things. She would talk when she was ready, he was sure of it.

Eames worked her shoulders loose, and he smiled at her contented sigh. "Like it?"

"Mmm. Good hands. I feel better."

"You like being in control of things, don't you?"

"Sometimes," she agreed.

"So... Give me an order," Eames offered. She looked up at him, brows furrowed in confusion. "I mean it. As long as you want to, as long as you need to. No safe words, even."

"Are you sure you know what you're offering?" Arthur called out from the living room, concern in his eyes.

It was touching, but Eames didn't need it. Not with Ariadne. "Of course I do." He slid his hand down her throat. "I trust you, Ariadne. I trust you with everything."

"Both of us?" she asked, eyes searching his. He didn't even hesitate when he nodded.

Her lips curled into a smile, and he couldn't help but smile in return. Hers was accepting, but his was anticipation.

***

"What's this?" Eames asked Ariadne, taking in the tape measure in her hands.

"Arthur said to just use your shirt collar size, but I want to be accurate." That wasn't exactly an explanation, but she was busy measuring his throat and wrists, jotting notes down on a pad of paper. "I have _ideas,_ you see." She looked up at him with a dangerous twinkle in her eye. "I'm planning on doing this the right way."

"Doing what?" he asked, confused. He looked over at Arthur, who was studiously looking at his laptop, researching something. Considering there wasn't a job waiting for them, it was rather curious behavior. "Arthur?"

"Listen to Ariadne," he said, not even looking up from his laptop. "We'll have all of this worked out soon enough."

"Work what out?"

Ariadne took Eames' chin in her hand firmly, turning his gaze to look at her. "You trust me. Which means you stop questioning me. _Now."_

"Yes, ma'am," he replied instantly.

She patted his head as if he was a child. "Very good, Eames." She kissed his forehead, and he felt a rush just at making her lips curl into that half smile.

The measurements turned out to be for a collar and matching cuffs. They were black leather, soft and supple, lined on the inside so that they wouldn't abrade his skin. His eyes went wide as soon as he saw them, as soon as Ariadne had Arthur push him down to his knees to put them on him. She buckled on the collar without a word, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. It was sexy, seeing her concentrate like that on him, and it was all he could do not to grab her and kiss her.

"You told me you'd do anything I said," Ariadne told him, voice soft as she trailed her fingers down his face. He was looking up at her, knowing full well she could read the adoration in his expression. Arthur was behind him, hands tight on his shoulders even though he had no intention of disobeying either of them. "Well, I'm putting limits on that. You do what you need to do when you're working on a job. You can be your adorably obnoxious self without my express permission." She hooked her fingers around the edge of the collar. "But when we put this on, when the cuffs go on, you're mine. You do what I say, when I say, and only that. There's no thinking, no disobeying me without punishment."

"Wait... What about Arthur?" Eames asked, confused.

"What did you think I was researching?" Arthur asked, his hands moving from Eames' shoulders to slide into the collar of his shirt. The edge of his fingers slipped beneath the collar, and Eames was pinned between their hands. "I wanted to make sure Ariadne did this right." He smiled at Eames' surprised expression. "Don't worry. We'll figure out a different kind of game between us."

Ariadne had a slow, sensuous smile on her face, and Eames knew he would promise her anything she wanted. "So we'll start this now."

"Yes, Mistress," Eames replied, voice soft and obedient.

She patted his cheek gently. "Go do the dishes. Without your shirt on," she added with a wide smile.

Startled, Eames came up off of his knees. It was her turn to do the kitchen cleanup, not his. He moved slowly, confused. He thought she was going to take him to bed. What was this all about?

A sharp swat to his ass brought him out of his thoughts. "Quickly, Ben," Ariadne said, steel beneath her sweet tone. "Go do my dishes. I'll be watching to make sure you do them properly."

Arthur got out of the way. "Want me to do anything?" he asked, bending down slightly to give her cheek a kiss.

Ariadne giggled a little as Eames hurried to do the chores without his shirt on. "Nah. Just getting used to the idea, you know?" She turned her head and gave Arthur a kiss. She trailed her hands down his chest and smiled against his mouth. "It's a whole new state of mind."

"For you? Not particularly," Arthur teased. He dodged her playful swat and let her go into the kitchen to oversee Eames.

Eames was only too aware of Ariadne's presence. It prickled his skin as if her gaze was a physical touch. After a few moments, he realized that she was simply observing him, watching the play of his muscles along his back as he moved. She wasn't watching over him looking for something to go wrong, wasn't intending to create fault when there was none. A sense of calm settled over him when he realized that, and his shoulders eased a fraction. He hadn't even known he was carrying himself with such tension. He didn't jump when Ariadne ran her fingernails along his spine. If anything, he shifted subtly into her touch.

"You like pleasing me, don't you?" she murmured softly.

"Yes, Mistress," Eames said with a soft smile. Suddenly it wasn't much of a joke to call her that. The cuffs on his wrists and the press of the collar at his neck reminded him that this was more than nicknames or teasing. She was doing this, and he was really supposed to obey her every command. He was expected to let go of everything and simply follow her lead.

Just the thought of that was intoxicating.

"When you're done, I need you to give me a manicure," Ariadne said, looking at her chipped nails and ragged cuticles.

Eames' mind stuttered to a stop. _What?_ He didn't stop what he was doing, as she hadn't given him permission for that. "Mistress?"

"You're going to give me your undivided attention, yes?" she asked in a wheedling tone, knowing the answer. He nodded firmly. "Well, you're going to give me a manicure. Simple enough."

He supposed he thought it would be just bedroom antics. The sound of Arthur quietly snickering behind his book was infuriating, if only because for a second Eames thought Arthur was having fun at his expense. Eames turned his head just enough to catch what Arthur was reading, and realized that he wasn't even looking in their direction. He wasn't paying any kind of attention to them. This was entirely Ariadne's show.

"Yes, Mistress," Eames murmured after a moment, when he realized Ariadne was expecting him to say something.

"Were you ignoring me? Or not paying attention to what you were doing?"

"Not paying attention," he admitted. It didn't even cross his mind to lie or evade the question.

She raked her nails down his back firmly. It wasn't horribly painful, but it was a jolt because he hadn't expected it. "Benjamin," she said. Her tone of voice was serious, the kind of tone he wouldn't argue with on the job. He didn't think of arguing with it right now. "I didn't ask for something terribly difficult, did I? Just doing dishes."

"No, Mistress. Just... I didn't realize that Arthur wasn't involved."

Ariadne shifted position so that he could see her upturned face. "You belong to _me_ for this, Benjamin. If I choose to share you with Arthur, it's because I feel like it. When you're wearing these," she said, tapping each cuff and the collar in turn, "you do as I say, when I say. I will have your full attention, no back talk, no hesitation. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress," Eames replied. He gasped when she raked a series of welts on his chest. "What was that for?"

"To remind you to pay attention," Ariadne said sweetly. "You got off easily for that one, since we only just started. But after this, the real punishments start."

"Punishment?" Eames asked, glad there was no tremor in his voice.

Ariadne merely smiled. "Just do as you're told, and you won't ever have to find out."

Eames was glad she turned him back to the dishes. It would have been embarrassing to have her know just how arousing it was to have her direct him this way. He could simply let go, let her take over, and he had absolute trust in her. He had thought it would go well, but now he knew for certain. He _needed_ this from her, and it was calming to think this would happen on a regular basis.

Relaxed, Eames set about to follow her directions. They were simple enough tasks over the next few days. He did some of her chores, did a manicure, did a pedicure, brushed her hair or simply sat at her feet in a relaxed pose. She smiled down at him, petting his hair or scratching her nails lightly across his scalp, making him hum. Sometimes she dragged him up by the collar to give him a kiss, tongue sliding into his mouth. It was reward for behaving according to her direction, as was holding him against her chest while watching DVD's in the afternoon. He inhaled the scent of her, she traced the muscles along his bare back, and Arthur did whatever it was he did when they didn't spend every waking moment together.

He was just a little upset to see Ariadne and Arthur kissing passionately one night when he was commanded to kneel on the floor of the living room. They were in the kitchen, and he could just see them out of the corner of his eye. He had his hand down her jeans and her hands were up beneath his shirt. Eames watched them work each other to a frenzy as he pushed his resentment back. "Wait," she gasped as she came around Arthur's fingers. "I have a better idea."

Obviously not pleased with the change in plans, Arthur still disentangled himself from her. "Ariadne..."

She put an extra sway to her hips and knelt down in front of Eames, tantalizing him with a flash of cleavage and the scent of sex. "Go lie down on our bed. Naked, face down. You don't get to touch yourself or anyone else."

Eames moved quickly, doing exactly as she asked. He turned his face to the side once he was sprawled on the bed and saw when Ariadne came into the bedroom. She had a pleased smile on her face, and the small, needy part of him that he had kept caged for years purred in delight. She was pleased with him, with how good he was being. This was how he could be worthy of her. This was how he could thank her for everything she meant to him.

She stripped off her own clothes then knelt between his spread legs. Eames relaxed at the feel of her feather light touch. She moved slowly, enough to bring a soft whine of frustration to his throat. He wasn't pinned to the bed by anything but his own willpower, and he thought about letting go. He thought about turning over, of pulling her beneath him and fucking her hard, never mind the rules. But Eames wouldn't, because he wasn't allowed to. Ariadne was in control, and she hadn't given him permission to do that. Her touch was maddening, avoiding everything sensitive he wanted her to touch. Back and forth her fingers ran, across his skin and lighting a fire in his veins. He tried to keep himself still as she had asked, but it was so hard to do. He wanted to move, he wanted to speed things up, he wanted _more._

"So good, Ben," she whispered, bringing her lips down to the small of his back. "You need more, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," he pleaded, eyes screwed tight. Arthur was standing in the doorway, pants tented from Ariadne's kisses and watching them. He had a smile on his face, eyes dark with desire, his fingers lightly stroking his own thighs. Eames wanted to touch him, wanted to kiss him, and he had to close his eyes to keep from begging Ariadne for that honor. He had to do as she said, and she never said he could ask for things. He had to wait until she told him what to do.

She ran her hands and mouth over his back, dropping little touches and kisses onto his skin. "This is your reward, Ben," she said softly. He loved hearing his real name on her lips. It sent shivers through him, and she smiled against his skin. "For being so good before. I know you've wanted to taste me for days. I wanted to draw it out for you," she whispered, running her fingers over his thighs. "I want you to know that all that waiting had a purpose. And now you get your reward."

"What do you mean?"

"Turn over," Ariadne said, moving to the side. He did so, opening his eyes to look at her. She moved so that she was positioned over his face, and he could smell her arousal. "You have to use your mouth," she said, voice husky with desire. "And only your mouth. You can use your hands to balance me if you need to, but that's it."

His large hands came up to her hips, keeping her above him as he extended his tongue to taste her. He moved delicately and slowly, tracing the outline of her sex then the slit. He traced her clit, making small circles and stripes across it. Eames made a low sound of pleasure as he slid his tongue inside her and curled it, her moisture running into his mouth like honey. He took his time with her, much as she had taken her time with him. Ariadne made soft sounds as she leaned above him, her hands caught on the headboard. He moved according to her sighs and gasps, coaxing the first orgasm out of her with a gentle swish of his tongue across her clit.

She never said he could stop, and at this point he didn't want to. He kept going, tongue across her clit or sliding to her slit, over and over, his hands on her hips keeping her from falling over and suffocating him with her musky scent. He tasted her from the inside out, laving at her, hard and fast, then slow and sure. He traced the letters of her name over her flesh, making her gasp and come against his lips. He continued even when his jaw ached, even when he would have wanted to slide his fingers into her, crook them or scissor them to have her screaming and writhing beneath him. Eames was hard, precome weeping against his stomach. Knowing that Arthur was watching made it worse; he wanted Arthur to touch him, to let him come as Ariadne came again, hips bucking against his mouth. He couldn't use his fingers, so he used his tongue instead, driving it into her, then flat against her clit, then in circles and letters and swirls again.

Eames kept going, knowing that Ariadne was far beyond comprehensible speech. He lost count of how many times she came, shuddering and nearly screaming above him, hands tight on the headboard. She was sagging over him, his hands the only thing keeping her upright when she was so boneless. "Stop," she cried finally, panting. Eames immediately did so, and she fell to the side, spent, breaths shallow. "Oh, God," she moaned. "It still feels like you're licking me. Even air feels like too much right now."

Arthur laughed from the doorway. "You did tell him to do this."

"Shut up," she grumbled. Her eyes glittered after a moment. "Ben," she gasped, lips curling into a seductive smile. "You need to suck on Arthur's cock. Get him to come, and then maybe we'll let you come."

"Yes, Mistress," Eames replied, looking up at Arthur through his eyelashes. Arthur approached and stripped off his clothing. Eames shifted position so that he was kneeling on all fours on the bed in front of Arthur. He took him into his mouth, holding all of him inside. He was soft and tasted like come, and Eames inhaled deeply as he worked his tongue along Arthur's length.

Arthur let out a soft sighing breath, the fingers of his hand moving to stroke the back of Eames' head. Ariadne made a happy little hum behind him, watching avidly as he worked his lips over Arthur's cock until he could touch the very root of him. He moved his tongue back and forth, twisting his head slightly so that Arthur's cock slid along the sides of his tongue and into his cheeks. It was as much for Ariadne's benefit as it was for Arthur's, and he smiled as he felt Arthur stir in his mouth. He moved back and forth, listening to Arthur's harsh breathing and Ariadne's appreciative little noises. Eames slid his tongue around Arthur's burgeoning cock before sliding his mouth all the way down, as if he intended to kiss the coarse hair there. He didn't have much of a gag reflex, and it came in handy now. Arthur made a soft groaning sound deep in his throat, his hands painfully tight on the back of Eames' head. He started shifting his hips, just a little, not quite pushing into Eames' mouth yet. Eames sucked hard, ignoring the needles of pain along his scalp as Arthur began tugging on his hair hard.

"I'm gonna come," Arthur gasped, even if he didn't really have to give Eames warning. "Oh, God, that," he gasped, pushing his hips against Eames' mouth faster. The head of his cock slid across Eames' tongue, hit the back of his throat, and the sensation of warm and wet and tight was too much. He came, spilling down Eames' throat, nearly shouting with his release.

Eames knelt on the bed as Arthur pulled out of his mouth, leaning against the headboard as he struggled to catch his breath. He startled at the feel of Ariadne touching his calf. He had almost forgotten she was even there. "Mistress?"

"You did good, Ben," she whispered, rising to her knees beside him. She pressed her lips to his shoulder, and Eames could feel his heart clench in his chest. She was pleased with him, she liked what he did, and he had done well. Ariadne trailed her fingernails down his cock, making him whimper. "How was he for you, Arthur?"

Arthur gave them both a sloppy grin. "I think he's earned a reward tonight."

"You can come now," Ariadne whispered, trailing a fingertip along a vein. "Right now, right in front of us. Let go and come."

Another light touch was all it took, and Eames came, spurting onto the coverlet, back arching up and his hands scrabbling over the bed. His own breathing was harsh and labored, chest heaving with the effort. He made a soft sound of dismay when Ariadne undid the collar. "But..."

"Sit up," Ariadne said softly, and he responded instantly. They each tackled a cuff, and Arthur carefully put them down on the bedside table. "All done for tonight," Ariadne told him, massaging his chest. "Only a little bit at a time."

Eames shifted so that he was sitting on the bed and they could curl up next to him, one on either side. "I don't need time off from that..."

Ariadne turned and leaned up to nibble on his earlobe. "Sometimes I don't want to order you around, Ben."

"Don't think of it as a punishment," Ariadne said softly as Eames began to frown. "I know you are, but that's not it." She slid her hand along Eames' stomach, then leaned over and kissed his shoulder. "Think of it as time to be just yourself. Not submissive, not someone mindless."

"I might still call you Mistress," Eames told Ariadne, running a hand along her side. She laughed and snuggled tighter to his side.

"Smartass," Arthur told him, but it was in a fond tone.

Eames waited for some kind of indication that they were disappointed in him. Or that this would never happen again. It didn't come. Their breaths slowed to normal, and they were sitting comfortably on the bed together. It was a different kind of intimacy, a different kind of trust that he had with them.

Pulling them close, an arm around either of them, Eames grinned. "So... Dessert? I got the makings for mousse when I went grocery shopping this morning."

"Ooh. Can I try licking some off of your stomach?" Ariadne asked, eyes shooting open. She didn't look quite so exhausted anymore.

Arthur swatted her arm playfully. "Insatiable," he teased. He leaned across Eames' chest to give her a kiss, then turned to give Eames a lingering one on his mouth. "I'd say she definitely wants some."

"You plan on licking some off my stomach, too?" Eames joked.

Arthur's eyes were dark with desire, making Eames' mouth run dry. "Oh, I'm sure we can arrange something."

Oh, yes. Even without scars or bruises or visible markings of any kind, they owned him. Eames definitely liked that idea.

The End


End file.
